


Aftershock

by firefright



Series: Talon and the Hood [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Dick Grayson has issues, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Jason Todd Has Issues, M/M, Past Character Death, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefright/pseuds/firefright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Joker is dead by Talon's hand and Jason is not happy about it. Clearly, there's some things they need to talk about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftershock

Jason wakes up alone.

It hits him harder than he thought it would, even though it's his own fault. Last night he'd barely exchanged a word with Talon before storming into the bedroom, throwing himself down onto the thin mattress that served as a bed and pulling the blankets over his head to shut the whole damn world away. It had been too much, seeing everything he had planned burst into flames and sure, the Joker was _dead_ but...

But it hadn't been supposed to go that way.

He stands up slowly, taking his time to try and minimise the pain that spikes through his chest at every movement. He's sore all over, bruised to fuck, and the desire to just lie back down and give up on being awake is strong but he forces himself to pad out of the bedroom to the crumbling living room, rubbing at the stiffness of his jaw. "Talon?"

There's only silence. Just to be sure he calls again to the same effect and tries to ignore the stab in his gut that whispers that maybe Talon has up and gone, that maybe he's left him finally because who wants a fuck up like Jason Todd? The thought curdles in his stomach and so he replaces the fear with familiar anger instead, stalking to the bathroom to splash his face with cold water and take a long overdue piss while he tells himself that it's just fine if he's alone, he doesn't need Talon. He doesn't need anyone.

Given that he mastered the art of lying to himself about that at a too young age, he almost believes it now.

Jason thinks to hell with it after that and digs out one of his hidden cigarette stashes from under the sink before climbing through the bedroom window onto the fire escape, ignoring the chill of the metal beneath his feet (he didn't remember taking his boots off) as he sinks down and lights up. He barely waits for the flame to catch before he's taking in a deep drag of smoke, holding the lungful in until it starts to hurt and then letting it out in a rush. A couple more puffs like that and he actually starts to feel calm again - smoking isn't a habit he indulges much in anymore, so it pays off now, the effects of the nicotine hitting him that much quicker than if he was the type to light up twenty times a day.

When he closes his eyes he sees it again; the knife sticking out of the Joker's heart, the shock on Bruce's face...

_I did it for you. Both of you._

Jason grits his teeth as he remembers those words, pulling his knees in tighter against his chest as he flicked the ash off his cigarette away into the alley below. He hadn't asked Talon to do that, not for him and certainly not for Bruce because Bruce was the one who was supposed to rectify his mistake, not his eldest son. Dick had paid enough already. It doesn't feel right, like Jason was cheated out of his moment of triumph.

_What moment of triumph? He wasn't going to do it, you know he wasn't and you were going to shoot him._

"God..." he breathes out, squeezing his eyes shut against the prickling of tears. He'd tried to shoot Bruce, he'd actually tried to shoot him with the intention of killing him. Jason had been so sure that Bruce would see the light and when he didn't, when he'd turned his back on him... 

Everything had gone green.

It isn't until the cigarette burns his fingers that he realises how long he's been sitting there lost in thought, eyes closed and hunched over like one of Gotham's very own gargoyles. Jason swears, throws the butt over the fire escape and pulls another one from the pack. It was a waste of a good cigarette.

The second is just about lit when there's the barest sound of feet touching down lightly on the railing in front of him and he looks up to see Talon perched there, head cocked and a worried pinch at the corners of his eyes. "You're smoking."

It strikes Jason how wrong it feels to see the Talon in the daylight, even wrapped up in Jason's borrowed clothing against the brightness of the sun. He's a creature of darkness, almost ethereal when he moved through the shadows and the light seemed to diminish him somehow, making him look smaller and more human. Fragile.

"Free country, isn't it?" It's the wrong thing to say, except Jason's feeling bitter and petty as he tucks the cigarette between his lips and breathes deep. The feeling of _Thank God, you're still here_ might soften his ire a little, but not enough to make him apologise.

"Jason..." The Talon hops down onto the fire escape and crouches in front of him, scarred fingers reaching for the stick in his mouth except Jason stops him by pushing his hand aside and turning his head before he can grasp it. "You're mad at me."

He snorts, smoke rushing out of his nostrils and damn, that actually burns, "What was your first clue?" 

"I had to do it."

"So you said." Jason shoots a glare at him, sagging back against the brick wall of the apartment building. "I had it all planned out, every damn thing. I had it planned out perfectly! Now it's fucked up, it's..." he pulls the cigarette out from between his teeth before he can crush it, trying to get a hold on his volatile emotions. "Fuck... don't get me wrong, I'm glad the bastard's dead, he got what he deserved but..." he can feel the constricting tightness in his throat as his voice quietens. "It wasn't your mess to clean up."

Talon narrows his eyes, never looking away until he suddenly moves to sit down beside him, uncharacteristically leaving a few inches of space between them and to Jason it felt like miles because it's rare, so fucking rare that the assassin doesn't take an opportunity to touch him. Talon's actually being considerate of his current mood and Jason appreciates that somewhere deep down, even though he can't figure out if it's what he actually wants. 

He's always at contrasts with himself, Jason reflects, why else would he actually be angry that his murderer is dead? Killed by someone he knows genuinely does care for him.

The thought clicks and he realises that maybe that's it, maybe that's the reason. He already knew Talon would do it for him if he asked, Jason never had any question about that. It was never him who was the problem.

"He had a batarang ready to throw before you even started to pull the trigger, if I hadn't intervened he would have taken you down." It's a harsh truth, one Jason wants to dispute except that he'd seen the batarang too. Fucking Bruce, of course, he couldn't let Jason have anything, not even proof that his son's life was worth more than that of a mass murderer. It wasn't supposed to be like that, he though, when you loved someone you were supposed to do _anything_ for them, moral code be damned.

"I don't regret it." Talon continues and Jason can feel the heavy weight of his gaze boring into him, "If I'd known he had been the one before I would have torn him apart years ago."

"I'm not..." Jason pulls his cigarette and presses his face into his hands, taking solace in the artificial darkness for a moment. "I'm not angry you did it." He realised it was true as soon as the words passed his lips. The anger he'd felt at Talon had been a reflex, a shield because he thought his action had been what denied him what he wanted. "I'm pissed he _didn't_. He still cares more about his own precious morality than all the people the Joker killed."

A cold finger traces over the back of his hands, running across the scarred bumps of his knuckles, "I know." Talon's taken his words as permission to touch again while still maintaining his distance. "But I couldn't let him hurt you."

Jason feels like an asshole, hell, he knows he's an asshole. "Fuck, it... it's okay, Talon. Really. I'm glad... I'm glad you did it. I'm glad he's gone." he drops his hands from his face and takes another pull from his cigarette as Talon moves his hand to cup the back of Jason's neck instead in a hold that's borderline possessive. "You did the right thing."

Except...

He turns his head, unable to bite back the question he wanted to ask since his head cleared enough to think of it. "You said you did it for both of us."

Under the hood Talon's expression turns impassive, his voice guarded. "Yes."

"What did you mean by that?" Jason has to ask, "Do you... do you remember him, from when you were..."

"Richard Grayson."

He swallows reflexively, "Yeah, him." It used to be that bringing up that name would have been enough to see Talon disappearing into the shadows without another word. "It won't change anything between us if you do but I... do you?"

"No." Talon's eyes track down to the alley way below them. "Not really." And for a moment Jason thinks that's all he's going to get, except that his partner keeps on talking. "Sometimes I get flashes, feelings."

This is new and honestly he's not sure what to do with it. Jason used to spend hours of his youth trying to convince Talon in the beginning, filled with the naive hope that he could bring Dick Grayson home and fill the broken hole in his new family where the boy who was supposed to be his older brother belonged - because maybe then he'd see Bruce smile once in a while - but he'd been shot down each time and quickly learned to stop trying. The moment that lesson was learned was when his and Talon's relationship had started to transition from hunter and prey to something else, something better. That Jason had been able to accept something that Batman could not was the reason they were here together now.

"... you don't have to tell me anymore if you don't want to." He whispers.

"I know I used to know him, even without checking the official records. Those told me who I was to him; his ward, his Robin. An orphan from the circus. But..." Talon talks almost like he's reciting something long practised before he shakes his head, "I don't remember him, I only know I don't want him dead."

"Oh." Jason's breath feels frozen in his chest, stunned by the level of trust that is Talon sharing this with him. _Oh_ he thinks, because Talon stopped him from trying to shoot Bruce as much as he stopped Bruce from hurting Jason. "I understand. I think."

The compulsion to share in return, to make them equal in the practice of sharing uncomfortable truths, is irresistible. Jason swallows as he forces himself to finally broach a long denied personal topic of his own. Quid pro quo, as Lecter said. 

"You know I... I don't know how I came back."

Talon shifts, eyes focusing back on Jason and he's closing the gap between them in a second, pressing the long line of his lean body up against the younger man's side while his cold hand pushes more firmly against the back of his neck. It's comforting as he chokes the words out. "I just woke up one day in my grave. I can't remember all of it but I remember that, remember digging my way out."

Some days he still wakes up with the taste of grave dirt in his mouth, hands aching where they'd been scratched and scraped, where his fingernails had been torn off in his mad desperation to live. "I think I walked away, made it to the streets before passing out into a coma because whatever brought me back didn't give enough of a shit to fix the injuries I got before I died. After I was kept in a hospital and no one..." he laughed quietly, bitterly, "No one recognised who I was. Not one fucking person recognised Bruce Wayne's adopted son." He sucks on the cigarette until the flame reaches the filter before tossing it over the railing. "Must've been a real shitty joint because when I woke up I was able to just wander out onto the street. That's where Talia found me."

It occurs to him a moment later that Talon may not know who she is, even though he'd once fought against her and her crazy father at Batman's side.

"League of Assassins." he explains without being prompted and Talon seems content to listen to him ramble, "I had no memory when she took me in, was pretty much catatonic. She tried to fix me up the normal way for a long time and when that didn't work," he grit his teeth for the next part, holding the memories at bay, "She threw me in the Lazarus Pit. It... it's bad. The Pit. Fixes you up but not for free, drives you a little crazy when it does. Or a lot crazy, maybe, haven't figured out which yet." Jason shakes his head, "All I thought about after that was revenge. About killing him at first because the clown was still alive, then when I calmed down a bit about showing him the truth. Talia told me - helped me learn how to kill people the way Bruce never would and then..."

"Then you came back."

"Then I came back, for him, for you." He pushes his head down on Talon's shoulder as his eyes water. It's the smoke, he swears to himself that it's the smoke. "You're the only part of my plan I didn't fuck up."

"Shh." Talon murmurs, combing his fingers through Jason's hair. He's clumsy with his comfort but earnest and that's all Jason really needs.

"I hate this fucking city, I hate him. It drives me crazy." Because Batman was the city in so many ways and being here meant dealing with him, if not in person then as an omnipresent force. His emblem hangs in the damn sky every night and now that they've caught his attention Jason is sure he isn't going to leave them alone if they remain. 

The idea strikes him a second later and he voices it without really thinking it through, "We should leave, before he comes after us."

The Joker's dead and Bruce has made his choice, so what the hell reason does Jason have to stay? Only Talon, if Talon would not come with him; which was a distinct possibility since Jason doesn't think he's ever left Gotham in memory. He wonders if it's somewhere in the Owl Handbook that he sometimes imagines exists that a Talon should never leave the city, right next to the rules about independent thought. Maybe they can't, maybe whatever bullshit it is the Court used in their creation binds them here.

"Where would we go?"

Jason closes his eyes, "I don't know. Somewhere not here. We could figure it out together, if you want to. Leave all this bullshit behind." 

"And if I don't?" Talon asks him, fingers pulling at Jason's hair, smoothing through the curls until he finds the white streak and wraps it around his finger like a leash.

"If you don't," Jason swallows, trying to cull the anxiety in his stomach at the possibility, "I'll stay, I'll make it work. I'm not leaving you again so long as you want me."

"Good," He knows Talon's leaning over him even without looking, can feel his other hand slip from the back of his neck to press against the front of Jason's throat with a controlling force that makes him want to melt back through the wall. "Because I wouldn't let you. You're mine, my little bird. You don't get to fly away from me again."

Jason believes him, he believes that Talon's dangerous and mad enough he might do just that and lock him up where he can't get away; a bird in a cage (sometimes he thinks of Gotham like that, a cage, a dark foreboding thing full of lost souls who don't even realise that they're prisoners).

He always did like to live dangerously.

"Will you?" he pushes, still tasting the remnants of the cigarette on his tongue, "Leave with me?"

"This city is my home." Talon replies, like he's weighing every word.

"It's mine too, always will be. But sometimes it's good to get away, see other places, carve out a piece of the world to call your own that's not already taken. Somewhere not tainted by Bats." Jason pauses, weighing his next words, "Or Owls." He's talking bullshit really, dreams, because he's never had the experience of doing that himself but it has to be possible, doesn't it? That there's somewhere out there for them to live outside of Bruce's shadow, even if it's only for a little while.

Jason knows how it is. He was away from Gotham for years, not by choice but still, inevitably, like a magnet, like a sinkhole in the earth, the city had a way of pulling its children home. It happened before and if they leave he knows with depressing reality that it will happen again.

That doesn't mean they shouldn't try, though.

Talon's face is a closed book and Jason wonders if those flashes and feelings he talked about are ever of the circus, of travelling far and wide across the country. Dick Grayson hadn't been born a child of Gotham, even if he'd been destined to become one. Once he'd known what it was like never to be tethered down to one place. "Do you really believe that?"

"It's better than trying nothing." Jason tells him, the hand on his throat presses harder, enough that he feels the push of it everytime he takes a breath. "Better than waiting for him to find us. You said it yourself, you don't want him dead and..." He trailed off, thinking of the gun in his hand and being ready to pull the trigger until Talon stopped him, "Neither do I."

"You almost did."

"I didn't." He retorts and he'd have pushed his hand into his face if he could move, blamed the smoke for the sting in his eyes once more. "I fucked up, I was just so... so angry. He turned his _back_ on me, Talon. Like I wasn't worth it, like I was nothing!" Just like that it's coming back to him, the fury, the green boiled rage. Jason's clenches his fists as he tries to get a handle on himself again, reminding himself where they are.

Talon's body pushes against him, aggravating the bruises hidden under his shirt. Up this close he smells like old blood, like copper and the curious absence of anything else but the lingering detergent from Jason's clothes. "Hush," he says and it's a command, no matter how softly spoken, "It's over."

"It's not over!" His voice grows louder, eyes burning with fevered light and Jason doesn't listen, "It's never going to be over! Not here, not with him, not -"

He's pulled, then pushed back through the window, out of the grey Gotham daylight and into security of this temporary home, away from the prying eyes and ears of the city. Jason hits the floor as Talon closes the window and then straddles his waist before he even has a chance to stand. "Calm down." Hands grips his wrists like bands of steel, " _Jason_."

Jason gulps in air in great lungfuls of air, staring up into yellow-ringed eyes as the Talon leans down close enough that their noses are almost touching. He doesn't raise his voice as he talks, he doesn't have to. "Stop."

"Let go of me!"

"No."

"Talon," he starts to growl, lips drawing back in a snarl, only for Talon to hiss back at him the moment he tries to fight free.

" _Stop_." Jason stops. Or maybe he freezes, like a rabbit under the shadow of a hawk (a robin under an owl), with teeth bared as he glares up at him. 

"Look at me."

"I am looking at -"

"No." Talon hisses again, shoving his wrists harder into the cracked floorboards. " _Look_ at me."

Jason reluctantly obeyed, focusing his eyes on Talon and taking in every inch of his familiar face. He looks at the gold that seeps into blue eyes, shining unnaturally bright against the unhealthy paleness of his skin; he looks at the scars on his neck and temples where they are not covered by the inky darkness of his hair, which spills out from under the hood of the jacket he'd stolen from Jason's wardrobe. 

He looks and sees the naked concern in his partner's gaze.

That green edge starts to recede back into the dark corners of his mind and Jason closes his eyes, suddenly ashamed at the way he'd snapped. "Talon... I..."

"We'll leave." Is what he hears, as he opens his eyes in time to see his lover look down at him and close the remaining distance between their mouths, kissing him like it's a promise in itself, "We'll leave."

"What - are you sure?" Jason has to ask the moment he can, taken back by the sudden agreement.

"Yes, but on one condition," Talon pushes Jason's hands together above his head, continuing before Jason can ask what it is. " _I_ get to choose where."

He almost laughs because of everything Talon could have asked of him in this situation that's fine, that's ridiculously fine. That's easy as pie. It's more than okay.

"Yeah, yeah of course." he says in relief, his stiff fingers twitching in the hold before he lets himself go lax against the floor as the tension continues to drain from his body. "Anywhere you want, Talon. Just tell me where to go."

"Later." He's assured, "Not today." Another kiss, and this time it's meant as reassurance. Jason opens his mouth easily at the press of Talon's tongue, allowing him to sweep in and lay claim to his mouth. It's softer and more gentle than most of their kisses are. 

For a good while they make out and nothing more, Talon's weight keeping him comfortably pinned to the floor until all the anger is completely burnt out of him and Jason is left feeling boneless afterwards, drifting on pleasant sensation until he barely even remembers the bruises that litter his body.

There's no protest from him as he's lifted from the floor, then guided over to the dilapidated couch. Jason's exhaustion hits him all over again and he just wants, _needs_ Talon beside him. "Don't leave." he whispers when the older man pulls away, "Stay."

"I'll be back in a second, little bird." Talon's fingers nudge along his jaw until Jason releases the hold he's taken on the stolen hoodie his partner's wearing. Jason watches him head for the bathroom, moving with swift grace to keep his promise and when he returns it's with one of their first aid kits in hand, plus a bottle of cold water pulled from the fridge.

"What are you -"

"You don't heal like I do, Jason." Talon sits beside him, twisting the cap off the water bottle before holding it out. "Drink, you're dehydrated."

He wants to protest that he can handle it himself but thirst hits him out of nowhere and Jason ends up taking the bottle without question, tilting his head back and trying not to gulp the water down too quickly as Talon's fingers move to the hem of his shirt. He helps by lifting his arms up over his head, his teeth gritted against the pain so Talon can pull the shirt off, then the thin armoured layer he wears underneath (wore to sleep in which was a bad, bad idea). "Fuck..."

It's worse than he initially thought. Hands gently push and prod over his torso, exploring the mess of bruising over Jason's chest and the downwards twist of Talon's mouth as he touches his ribs confirms that some are at least cracked if not broken. There's not much that can be done for those except to give him some painkillers from the first aid kit. Jason swallows each pill down with the help of more water under Talon's watch, before he stands once more to retrieve some ice from the freezer for the bruising. It seems to make him happier to fuss over Jason.

They stretch out on the lumpy couch together afterwards, Jason lent back against Talon's chest as the assassin moves the ice pack over his bruises, adjusting its position every fifteen minutes. The sensation is unpleasant at first, but then the drugs kick in (they were the heavy duty kind, the only type Jason bothered to buy) and he starts to doze off again, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his partners chest behind him, as well as the soft brush of Talon's nose against his hair. 

"Sleep, little bird." his partner murmurs insistently in his ear, "I'm here."

With no strength left to protest, Jason passes out a moment later.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest individual instalment of the series yet, even combining the two chapters of Fire and Fury. The boys had a lot of words to say.
> 
> Coming up in the next part: Tim!


End file.
